


It's a Plan [FIC & ART]

by Marshview



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Art, Asexuality, Consent Issues, Demisexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanart, Forehead Kisses, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 16:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshview/pseuds/Marshview
Summary: Harry and Draco are in a relationship, but Draco was raped in the past (which is mentioned in this story, but not graphically, so the Consentfest mods and I don't feel the story necessarily warrants the rape/noncon Archive warning). Because of his past trauma, Draco cannot kiss Harry on the lips or have sex. He does enjoy forehead kisses, cuddles, and showing affection. Harry understands, and gives Draco the kind of love and support Draco needs. The artwork is at the end of the story.





	It's a Plan [FIC & ART]

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HD ConsentFest Prompt #67. 
> 
> This is my first time participating in a fest. When I read the prompts, I got an immediate image in my head that I wanted to draw. I wasn't planning on writing the story, too, but before I started to sketch, the words just fell out and insisted on being written down. 
> 
> Many thanks to the incomparable [Aibidil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aibidil/pseuds/aibidil) for the above-and-beyond beta. Your input vastly improved the story. I have loved and admired your absolutely stellar writing, and I couldn't believe my good fortune when you offered to beta for me! I couldn't resist messing with the story a bit further, so any remaining mistakes are all mine.
> 
> Artist’s Notes: My art is all nondigital at present – just me, a pencil, & a piece of paper. I'm not fussy about types of paper, though I am fond of my cheap mechanical pencil; it's green, and yes, that matters. I also used a charcoal pencil on this piece, but we didn't really become friends.

Draco had been on edge, acting fidgety and throwing out random snark all day. Now, as he and Harry worked together to clear the dinner table, Draco said abruptly, "Let's go dancing. I can't stand another night in front of the fire with a book. I want to feel dangerous and beautiful. And I need to _move._ "

Harry shot him a look of amusement mixed with concern. "Erm. I guess we could... if you're sure?"

"I'm sure," said Draco.

"How about I tune up the motorcycle while you get dressed?" Harry suggested. "I could do that, and still be showered and ready by the time you're done making yourself dangerous and beautiful."

Draco tossed his head. “I'm not going anywhere with you if you're going to wear ripped jeans and ratty trainers covered in grease and oil, you filthy petrolhead.”

Harry laughed. “I promise to Scourgify under my nails and polish my boots, Draco. I'll wear the bloody trousers you like with the sodding fasteners, though I hate having to fight them every time I need a slash. I'll even let you choose my shirt.”

Draco might disparage Harry's preference for comfort over style, and complain about the flying bike’s grime, but Harry knew he and Draco would both enjoy the ride. He closed his eyes, anticipating the moment of takeoff with a twist of excitement in his gut. He could almost feel the throbbing engine’s heat beneath his thighs. He thrilled at the thought of Draco's chest pressed against his back, strong arms wound around Harry's waist. The dizzying rush of speed and close contact was an irresistible combination.

"Alright, it's a plan," Draco enthused, and the brilliance of his smile warmed Harry's blood.

~×~

While Harry ran through his bike maintenance checklist, he thought about his relationship with Draco. They were best friends, housemates… partners? Significant others? Platonic lovers?

 _Ugh, labels are just crap,_ he thought. _I hope this night on the town goes well. I would love to see Draco branch out a bit more, but I hope like hell something doesn't trigger him._

Draco's public appearances since the war were, more often than not, teeming with fraught emotions. Harry was acutely aware that Draco's issues were caused not only by the scorn the Wizarding world still held for former Death Eaters, but also from the soul-crushing trauma Draco had endured at the hands of Dolohov and Rowle. _No one on Earth should have to endure the anguish that comes from being raped,_ Harry fumed.

Dolohov and Rowle had repeatedly brutalised Draco after Voldemort gave them the boy to punish him for his failure to kill Dumbledore. Harry burned every time he thought about it, yet he was simultaneously grateful that Draco had trusted Harry enough to tell him about it. _Thank Merlin the bastards are dead,_ Harry seethed. _At least they can't hurt him again. And now I'm here and I will do whatever it takes to protect Draco,_ he vowed to himself. _He's so perfect for me, so… right. He helps me so much just by his presence. And he doesn't even realise it._

Sometimes Harry thought Draco was the strongest person he'd ever met, just for getting out of bed every day. He was amazed by the depth of Draco's control. Most people would only notice Draco’s brusque, aloof poise, but Harry knew Draco's tells and could always sense his anxiety level. When Draco plucked at the edges of his sleeves, or folded his arms and rhythmically squeezed long, refined fingers around his biceps, or when the pulsing jump of that little muscle in his jaw declared tightly clenched teeth, Draco was tempering his fight-or-flight response as best he could. When Harry saw those tiny, deliberate actions, the urge to soothe and protect Draco would surge like Fiendfyre through his veins.

In those moments, Harry would briefly touch Draco's elbow, or brush closer with a shoulder, or place a hand gently on Draco's lower back. Harry's discreet, careful touches, letting Draco sense his proximity and awareness, were often enough to ease a difficult situation. And there were plenty of times when Draco would reciprocate, calming Harry's tension with just the mildest look, a momentary touch, or the miniscule twitch of a smile.

Harry had his own share of anxiety in public and in private. The ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’ was mobbed by paparazzi and fans on a regular basis. Survivor guilt was a gnawing ache, never far from the surface. Finding his way in the post-war world continued to be a challenge, and he had days where he felt useless and out-of-place. Those horrid days were fewer now that he and Draco shared a home, a life. And while they still had frequent nightmares, they comforted each other during the worst bits. _And hey, at least we rarely fall apart at the same time,_ Harry mused.

He was glad they would be flying into Camden to visit a Muggle club tonight, neatly avoiding the attentions of the Wizarding press. He renewed his usual silencing, safety, anti-crash, and cushioning spells, then laid an extra-strength Notice-Me-Not Charm over the bike. Smiling in satisfaction as he tested the results, he ran his finger reverently over the smooth chrome and leather, as always, with a wistful thought for Sirius's memory. _Ah, well,_ he sighed to himself. _Time to get cleaned up._

~×~

As he waited for their drinks from his place at the bar, Harry watched Draco's slender torso contort in a graceful sway, perfectly timed to the thrumming beat. _Well, he certainly succeeded,_ Harry thought, as he admired Draco's attire. _He definitely looks beautiful and dangerous tonight._ Draco was a study in black, clad in an artfully tailored mesh shirt, skintight trousers, and dragonhide boots laced to the knee. The carefully applied eyeliner didn't hurt either, especially paired with Draco's glossy silver-gilt hair. He wore it long and loose on the top but cropped close on the sides, exposing tiny sterling rings in each earlobe. His mercurial eyes glittered in the pulsing light of the dance floor and Harry's heart responded with an involuntary lurch. Draco would never be traditionally handsome —his sharp features and almost-skinny frame were too raw for that— but neither did he look feminine or frail. _No,_ thought Harry, _beautiful and dangerous_ _will always be the proper words for Draco Malfoy._

Harry could happily spend hours watching Draco dance. Draco’s rigid control loosened with the beat and he simply _flowed,_ undulating that elegant body in ways Harry couldn't mimic even if he tried. _He looks like a cobra,_ Harry thought. The exquisitely crafted clothes and makeup said, _admire me,_ but they also screamed, _hands off, or face my wrath._ Harry noticed other dancers’ eyes on Draco, but they seemed to get the message and left a respectful space around him.

The drinks finally arrived, and Harry took one in each hand as he wove through the tightly packed crowd towards Draco. As he approached, Harry could tell the exact moment that things went sour. A tall, broad Muggle, obviously totally rat-arsed, elbowed his equally muscular bro in the side with a guffaw as he ogled Draco's sinuous form. Draco, lost in the music, was oblivious until the brutish pair closed in on him from either side, clearly intent on causing trouble.

 _Fools!_ _You stupid, bollocking wankers!_ Harry thought as he ditched the drinks in an instant and tore his way through the crowd, but it was all over in a heartbeat. The two bruisers were on their knees, hunched over and clutching their stomachs, and Draco was a flickering wraith, twisting through the press of bodies, speeding towards the exit.

~×~

Just outside, Harry scanned the street for Draco. Since the time they'd arrived, a light rain had started. The wet pavement glowed under dim street lamps.

"Draco, are you alright?" Harry called, running as he caught a glimpse of Draco striding furiously down the street. Almost hidden between two tall shops, a shadowy flight of stone stairs descended, leading to a deserted sunken courtyard. Draco abruptly detoured to collapse on one of the lower steps. Harry slowed, approached cautiously, and sat on the step just above. He cast a wandless Umbrella Charm, large enough to protect them both.

"May I touch you?" Harry asked, uncertain whether Draco would welcome his touch, or –which might be just as likely– throw a Stinging Hex his way. When he heard a quiet assent, Harry rested a tentative hand on Draco's trembling shoulder.  

"I just wanted to forget myself for a little while, you know?" Draco said with a gasp, his façade of icily controlled rage dissolving into a grimace. "Why can't they just let me be?"

"I know, Draco. You didn't do anything wrong. Those fucking bastards earned everything you gave them and more. I'm so proud of you for the way you handled it. I'm here for you; whatever you need, just tell me."  

Draco turned and looked up at Harry, with streaks of eyeliner-stained tears marring his cheeks. "Hold me, please?"

"Of course, always, if that's what you need," said Harry, throwing his arms open. Draco inched closer and laid his head on Harry's chest, and Harry gathered him into a tender embrace. "It's going to be all right. We're here, we're together, we’re safe, nobody's around, just breathe with me, please?"

Draco dragged in a shuddering breath, and shivered in Harry's arms. "You're freezing, aren't you?" Harry said. "That outfit you've got on is amazing, but out here we definitely need Warming Charms," as he cast one over them.

"Yes, better, thank you," Draco mumbled, and snuggled closer.

"What exactly did you do to those arseholes?" Harry asked. "Whatever it was, you did it so fast I’d swear nobody even saw you cast."

"Bile Bomb Hex. They'll be vomiting Jäger and stomach acid for at least another hour or two.” Draco's hissing tone would freeze hell. Harry heard fury, contempt, and a bit of residual fear behind Draco's words.

"Hmmm. Subtle yet effective," Harry approved. "And you cast that wandless? Damn, you're fierce, Draco.”

Something shifted behind Draco's eyes. His habitual reserve shattered, revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability. In a rush of words, Draco spilled insecurities usually kept deeply hidden. "But that's not true. I'm not fierce. I'm such a fucking shambles. I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm trying so hard, and it never works out, practically every time we go out something happens and I melt down, and you ought to be with somebody normal, someone who can give you more, who'd be so much better for you."

Draco faltered, then continued, "I can barely function in public most days, much less in private. You're too good to me, and I can't even kiss you on the mouth, or give you the kind of intimacy you truly deserve. I'm so fucked up. I wanted tonight to be different, to be the start of being braver, or something, I don't know..." Draco trailed off into nearly silent, wracking sobs as he hid his face in Harry's collar.

“Hey, hey, now, c'mon, there's nothing to apologise for, Draco, you don't have to push yourself into anything for me. And, well, I’m just not comfortable with the idea that anyone “deserves” intimacy, as if it's a due that's owed, you know? I'm good to you because I _want_ to be, not because I'm trying to earn anything from you. And you're just as good to me. There's really nothing _too good_ for either of us. And, yeah, maybe we're both a bit fucked up, but we can handle it together. I'm not going anywhere, I promise," Harry soothed as he rubbed gentle circles into Draco's shoulders.

They had both been seeing Mind-Healers since the war. It might never come easy, but they were learning to unlock their words, better communicate their feelings, and find tools to support each other. Harry was certain that it wouldn't be very far in the future before it was his turn to cry while Draco did the comforting. He gave a silent prayer of thanks for the Mind-Healers’ training and expertise.

Harry placed one gentle finger under Draco's chin. "Look at me, please, Draco, and hear me now." Harry knew Draco would understand, by requesting Draco's full attention using those particular words, Harry was completely sincere and needed to say something of importance. It was their own key phrase for critical moments, and they had each used it more than once since their relationship began.

Harry took a deep breath as Draco opened his reddened eyes and met Harry's gaze. "I don't want anyone else. And I don't care if we don't kiss on the lips, and if we don't have sex now, or ever, really, it just doesn't matter. Yes, I find you incredibly attractive. Yes, when I look at you, your body does things to me. But I am an adult, and I can handle my body's urges all by myself. You never, ever have to give me something you aren't comfortable sharing. I only want what you are willing and capable of giving. And what I want most for us is what we already have. I want to be close to _you,_ so much more than I want your body. Our relationship doesn't have some silly timeline or agenda to meet, Draco. We don't have to follow anybody's stupid rules, either. We get to choose how we do us.”

He paused, filled his lungs again, and then continued more slowly, "It's more than enough, what we have right now. You're so much more than I ever dreamed I could have in my life. I need you to be just exactly you, as you are. I need your fidgets and fusses and your sarcasm. I need your fingers carding through my untamable hair even as you poke fun at me for it. I need your poncy jasmine pearl tea steeped for precisely four minutes, and I need you to bark at me and call me 'Potter' when I leave my pants on the bathroom floor. You help me so much, Draco, just being there for me. We can take this road one step at a time, wherever it goes, and I will stay with you as long as you want me. Because, honestly, Draco, being anywhere but by your side would be absolute hell for me. l care about you so much, just as you are, right here, right now, and what we have, well... it's everything, Draco. You — you're everything to me."

Draco's breath hitched, and he let out a tiny, strangled noise. "You're everything to me, too, Harry," he whispered.

Harry grinned as he pulled Draco closer, and planted a tender kiss on Draco's perspiring brow, just the way he knew Draco preferred.

"Hey," Harry murmured, "It's stopped raining. Suppose we go rescue the bike and take a little flight up over the canals, maybe look at the lights on the water. Then we can go home, curl up by the fire and have some of that tea, yeah?"

Draco sniffled, then conjured an immaculate handkerchief with a deft twist of his wand and wiped the smears from his face. A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "Alright. It's a plan."

**Author's Note:**

> My approach to consent is simply that you must always ask first, even if you think you already know the answer. Relationships change constantly, and situations can shift in an instant. Communication and kindness are fundamental.


End file.
